


Radioactive

by whatfangirlwhere



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:13:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatfangirlwhere/pseuds/whatfangirlwhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nuclear war takes out most of the world, a man decides that the only way to keep order is to take over. But some people aren’t exactly in agreement, including our young friends, who decide it’s their duty to try and set things right for what citizens there are left, and so they try to muster a force to fight back, but will they even get the chance, in such a damaged world? (Some pairings still TBD, rated M for later chapters, first names from my own headcanon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Alright, so perhaps that hadn’t been the best idea.

Of course, if Julien Enjolras was being honest, most of rather impulsive ideas weren’t the smartest, but he also felt no shame in what he’d done. He’d started a not-so-entirely peaceful rally against the new laws that were being imposed the day before, stating that anyone who was found guilty of what they deemed “crimes against the government” would be subjected to some form of new treatment that seemed dubious at best, and terrifying to most. But, of course, no one had any say, not anymore, everything was decided by the man who’d imposed himself as “King” of Europe-or what was left of it. As had been foretold and warned against for many years, the world had plunged itself into an all-out nuclear war, starting with America and the team of China and Russia, with all the other big shots joining in. Europe, for once, was lucky enough to keep out of it, however they were caught in the crossfire and didn’t escape damage. Most of the peninsula and surrounding islands was barren wasteland, with only shells of what were once proud buildings left as a reminder of what they’d done. The damage to technology kept them cut off from even other continent, and indeed most wagered there was no one left at all in certain regions, although it was considered (by their King, of course) that it was a waste of precious resources to go look and see if anyone survived.

The fortunate souls who had escaped the worst of the backlash, or whom had found shelters that could withstand the nuclear blast, were immediately rounded up and brought to the safest areas possible, those with a low enough radiation level to sustain life. Anyone who wasn’t in those zones was left to fate, and no one wanted to think of anyone who dared go even a few meters outside the safe zone, horror stories passed down to young children to warn them away. Horror stories were spread rampant, telling of awful disfiguration and slow, painful death to anyone who went too far. No one knew for sure how much of it was true, but nor did they dare question it, as they’d learned not to question anything. After all, they were told, the world had become a far more terrifying place, and they were lucky to be alive, the government was just trying to help them.

Enjolras called bullshit and, well, here he was. In the back of what he thought had probably once been a repairman’s van that had survived, the windows painted over and no benches, a barrier between him and the man driving the vehicle. Normally he would be crammed in along with likely a dozen others, but he supposed this was his father being what he thought was nice, letting him go off to prison comfortably. Comfortable as bumping around in the back of a van along back roads with your hands cuffed together could be, of course, but Enjolras wasn’t complaining, if not mostly simply because he figured it was pointless, he wasn’t the type to go shouting at nothing, rather he was calculating, calm, he was thinking of each and every way in which he could use this as a way to help change things. Maybe his arrest would draw attention, the son of one of the only remaining men with any power in this society arrested for standing against it-of course, the news wouldn’t be widespread, his father would make sure of that, he was in charge of such things after all, the man the King trusted to watch what news sources they had left, mostly old radios and a few phone lines, some newspapers that were struggling to stay afloat in this age. Enjolras had latched onto those resources as much as he could, because of who his father was he also knew every way to get around what he wanted people to hear, to get onto the secret channels, find those people who would boldly use whatever means they could to get the real truth out, and Enjolras ate it up. He heard other voices like his own on those channels, young men and even a few women speaking out against what their King was doing, talks of horrible treatment and outraged cries against whatever was happening at the prisons-which, he thought grimly, he should be preparing himself for, he was about to become their newest addition after all-

In fact, sooner than he thought-he must’ve gotten wrapped up in his thoughts well enough that time had gotten stuttered, for it seemed they had reached their destination, the van had shuddered to a sharp top that sent him tumbling to the side, his head connecting with the metal side of the van rather painfully. He winced, reaching up to touch it, relieved that he felt no blood pooling there, looking at the door sourly as he struggled to his feet, refusing to be found on the ground as such. He cocked his head, hearing shouts outside the van, although he couldn’t hear the words the tone didn’t seem entirely friendly and suddenly he went on alert, hoping it wasn’t some sort of bandits, which had become more rampant after the bombs, when supplies grew scarce. He listened for several minutes, and then everything went quiet, and somehow that only managed to unsettle him more. He stepped back so his back was against the metal caging that was meant to separate him from his captors, but just as his back touch the metal he heard the door slam open and he scuttled back in a rather undignified fashion, watching and waiting for what he assumed would be the surly guard that he wasn’t entirely fond of…only to see a mop of black curls and a big grin with matching twinkling grey eyes.

“Hey there! Don’t happen to know where they put the keys, do you?”

“I-what?”

“The keys, you silly, unless you’d like to stay in these cuffs the rest of your life but I’m afraid you won’t be able to do much like that. Besides, we could use the van.”

“What?”

“Can’t you hear me? Where’d they stow the keys, Monsieur Enjolras?”

“How do you know-never mind, they keys to the cuffs were in the glove compartment, the key for the van were on the Captain, on his belt-“

Before he could even finish the curious young man had leapt back out of the van, and he could hear him calling out.

“’Ferre, keys are on the fanciest looking one! Better hurry, or they’ll notice us taking their van!”

He heard a muffled response but before he could try and see who it was the young man had popped his head back into the vehicle, opening up the compartment and rummaging around for the keys, emerging with a triumphant grin.

“Meetcha back there in a sec!”

Enjolras opened his mouth to enquire who his supposed rescuer was, but the beaming boy had already clambered back out of the vehicle and around to the back. The young man was certainly native a Frenchman, although his accent was more southern than Enjolras’ Parisian, even though the country itself no longer existed as such those old enough to have learned it still held onto their native tongue. Or at least those who still thought there was a such thing as freedom.

“Ah, there we go! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, shall we?”

He was startled from his thoughts by the door swinging open, the figure much clearer without the metal grate separating them. He was young, perhaps a bit older than Enjolras himself although his cheeks still had a bit of babyfat clinging to them, and despite the wear in his clothing his grey eyes were bright. The clothes helped him figure out for himself what he was-one of the rebels, with a gun on his belt and several knives, the dark red jacket he wore patched in several places and the blue scarf around his neck looked threadbare, it was useful for wind storms and such, though, he’d learned at least that much. Before he knew it the other had the chains off his wrists, and he rubbed them subconciously, looking at him.

“Thank you, friend-as I assume you are.”

“Oh, yes! The moment we heard your name on the radio we went into action, I mean I always told them that you’d be on our side but ‘Ferre never believed me, said you’d be just like your father.”

“I did not, I just said that we couldn’t just go steal him away from his bedroom because you wanted him to join us.” Another voice said, this one a bit deeper and smoother, calming, and when another face came into view he could see this man was much the voice of reason of the two of them, with cracked glasses and pale brown hair that almost had a tint of red. Warm brown eyes met his briefly before the man bowed his head, smiling. “Glad to see you’re alright, Monsieur, but I’m afraid we’re in a hurry. Courfeyrac, make sure that Bahorel doesn’t kill anyone, it makes things messy and it’s a waste.”

“Yessir, be right back-privilege to have you with us, Enjolras!” He chirped, smiling before he bounded out of the van, calling out to someone else, Enjolras watching in calm curiosity, only stirring at the light touch on his temple, moving to look only to hear a soft “tut”.

“Don’t move, I’m checking this bump on you head-are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I’m just fine-you have medical training?”

“As much as one can get these days, you learn fast.” The brunet said, shrugging, after making sure that Enjolras wasn’t concussed or badly injured, clapping his shoulder lightly and smiling, perhaps not as broadly as his companion but it was a rare thing those days. “We’d best be going, come, we might all be able to squeeze up front, I believe there’s room.”

“I’ll be glad to be out of here.” Enjolras nodded, getting out of the back of the van and going around front, noting several of the guards who had taken him unconscious on the ground, a rather cheerful looking ginger-haired man making his way over, at least a few years older than either of them by the looks of it.

“Hey, we got the cargo, excellent! I get to drive, you ladies can fight over the other spots.”

“Yes, and how about we hurry, please? They’ll notice something is wrong when they don’t arrive soon, and we’d best be far away by then.” Combeferre nodded, opening the door, letting Enjolras climb in first, followed by Courfeyrac, and then got in last, Bahorel barely waiting for them to shut the door before he started it up, roaring off across the wasteland that they had been driving past, Enjolras deciding not to mention that the vehicle probably wasn’t made for off roading, it seemed like it’d be pointless anyway, the fiery man giving a whoop as they drove off.

“Alright, let’s bring the Princess back to camp!”

“He’s not some damsel in distress, dude.” Courfeyrac objected before Enjolras himself could, and the other two bickered back and forth for a little well, Enjolras letting himself relax a bit, tuning them out. He wasn’t quite sure whether or not to be relieved, considering he might’ve just jumped into the sharks now, but he was curious as to what he was getting into with this oddly matched trio, and he had to admit he was a bit thrilled.

He was free.


	2. Chapter 2

They didn’t talk much after a while, but the silence was comfortable, it wasn’t like his ride over where he was alone, there was an air of fraternity, these young men who had sprung him free that were quite obviously from very different walks of life and yet they seemed to fit, too. After a bit, however, he cleared his throat, all three of them turning to look at him, and all of the sudden he felt very put on the spot, but he dismissed the feeling, looking at the one who’d freed him, this odd black-haired young man that seemed almost bursting with a sort of brilliant energy.

“What was you purpose in releasing me?” He asked, pointing the question toward the other man, who simply smiled, shrugging.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated, you see, but it’s best to tart with a simple explanation, I’m sure you know at least a bit of it. I’m Courfeyrac, and this is Combeferre, an old friend of mine, and this spitfire driving the van is Bahorel, he’s good to have in a fight so we bring him along mostly on these trips.”

“We’re part of a resistance corps, they’re all over however I believe that as we know of our group is the largest.” The man with the glasses, Combeferre, added, pushing them up his nose with a sigh. “We lead a small section of it that is meant to try and rescue as many as we can from going to the prisons, in hopes they’ll join our cause. Of course, you don’t have to, we have places you can go if you wish to simply live without being captured again, but most of the political prisoners are more than likely to join our cause, as we’ve found.”

“So were you all captured in the beginning, then?” Enjolras said, nodding to himself, it made sense now why they’d freed him, if rumours had spread of his rather outspoken behavior. Combeferre shook his head, however.

“I hadn’t been captured, someone had to get this idiot free, he’s almost been to prison on multiple occasions at this point, he doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.”

“Hey, now, most of those times I was trying to defend innocent people-well, alright, and one time it was for saying crass remarks to the guards but they started it.” Courfeyrac quipped, and Enjolras was trying to puzzle him over, he had the grace and features of someone that could’ve been nobility, and yet he chose to be noble instead. Combeferre shushed him, although it was without any irritation, waving his hand.

“Anyway, most of the people we have were political prisoners at some point, we try to rescue as many as we can but obviously we cannot get each and every one. “

“Of course, of course.” Enjolras murmured, nodding and looking between them. “So you are trying to bring down the King? I’ve heard the radio broadcasts, my father has some of the best radios in the area.”

“Aha, see! I told you he was listening in!” Courfeyrac said gleefully, smacking his friend on the arm lightly, turning to look at Enjolras again. “We like to try and pinpoint where our radio ‘casts are going, we’ve scrounged up some technology and with the help of some of our people we can figure out who’s been listening in. We were surprised to find it going to someone in the heart of the government, they figured they were just listening in but I said it had to be you, even if they’ve kept it hush-hush I’ve heard that you haven’t exactly been following in your father’s footsteps. It was a far shot, but I’m glad it turned out to be true. That is, if you’ll join us.”

“Don’t rush him, Courfeyrac, he only just escaped, give him a bit of time to adjust-”

“I want to.”

Combeferre looked at him, Courfeyrac as well, although he looked almost triumphant. Enjolras just glanced between them, nodding a bit solemnly and repeating.

“I want to join your cause, if you are against this tyranny than I am with you. This is not what our world needs right now, the people live in fear and starvation, and the King needs to be taken from power. The people have to be the ones to do it, and therefore yes, I will join you, as long as you’re asking, I’m not going to sit idly by and let this continue.”

Courfeyrac let out a whoop that made Combeferre wince, but Bahorel just let out a hefty shoulder and reached over to clap Enjolras on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the club, kid, you’ll find it’s not as exciting as it sounds.”

ooooo

Their “camp”, as it were, struck Enjolras a bit by surprise, when he realized where they were headed, Courfeyrac grinning at the look on his face which he was sure looked a bit stunned. They had been travelling for most of the day, at this point, the van creaking as they drove through what had once been cities, villages, fields.

“What better way to snub our dear King than to use this as our hideout?” He said as the van pulled up, pulling open the door and leaping out, spreading his arm open wide in a rather dramatic version of a bow. “Welcome to the Palace at Versailles, Enjolras, it’s a bit unstable in a few spots but it’s held up so far, and there’s plenty of room. Don’t worry, the radiation levels are fairly low here, we checked it out, it’s not our first base but it’s the best one we’ve found so far, plenty of rooms and places to hide in case they ever track us here.”

“Which hopefully they haven’t.” A voice said, and a slim young man stepped out from the hall near their van, a gun in his hands, Enjolras assuming he must’ve been on guard or waiting for them, either way he almost looked too young to be much danger and yet there was something in his hazel eyes that made him take that back. Courfeyrac just smiled as the other three got out of the van, going over to him.

“Of course not, Feuilly, they’d never even have a chance at catching us. Look who we got, though!” He added, gesturing widely at Enjolras, the auburn-haired boy (Feuilly, he believed he’d said) raised his eyebrows a bit, and then he bowed his head.

“Glad to see they managed to get you out of there, Monsieur Enjolras.”

“Please, enough with the titles, I’m no greater than any of you, save that title for my father.” Enjolras said, noting the smile on Feuilly’s lips as he nodded.

“Of course, of course-let’s get inside, though, I’m sure the others will be glad to hear you’re back safe.”

“I’ll go stow the van.” Bahorel called out, and Combeferre dismissed him with a nod, the rest of them heading inside, Feuilly tucking his gun into a holster on his back as he led them along what had once been a beautifully decorated hall, now only faded images remained. Some furnishings remained, although most of them looked like they would crumple at a single touch, the beauty in it seeming almost haunting, but it was a sight that was far too familiar those days. Courfeyrac walked in front of them by Feuilly, chattering on about their “mission” to break him out and giving him every detail, although the smaller man just smiled and popped in with occasional responses, he didn’t seem perturbed by their cheerful companion, and he wondered how long they’d all been together, they seemed so close. They didn’t seem old enough to have been together since the bombings, they must’ve been only children then, they were almost still children and yet here they were banding together to stop injustice even in such dark times. As they walked along further they entered what he thought must’ve been some sort of grand ballroom or hall of some sort, although now it was set up with what seemed like every decent table left in the building, some with food being rationed for meals, others with weapons, and a rather large amount of people milling about. It wasn’t an army, or even a small mob, really, just about maybe a few dozen, but he hadn’t been expecting it, he’d expected the rebels to be far more scattered.

“Oi, Courf!” Someone called out, a man who seemed young and yet the lack of hair on his head seemed to counter his youthful features, an oddity that was almost charming, another man beside him turning at his shout and smiling when he saw them, the both of them bounding over.

“Glad to see you made it back alright, it’s always a worry when we let you and Bahorel go together. Too much pig-headedness in one place.” Joly quipped, Courfeyrac wrinkling his nose and making a rude gesture at him.

“It was easy, in and out, like it usually is, the guards didn’t see us coming. We even got a better vehicle out of the deal, we stole their van, it was in good condition so we figured we might as well grab it for ourselves.”

“And Combeferre let you do that?” Joly looked at him, the bespectacled man just shrugging.

“I didn’t think to stop him, we’ve probably made ourselves known enough when we decided to grab Enjolras, don’t you think?”

“They wouldn’t dare follow us out here anyway, we went through some of the outer lands, those pretentious asses wouldn’t dare go near there, even to follow out tracks. If anyone caught them doing it, it’d be an uproar.” Courfeyrac added, shrugging, and Enjolras raised one blond eyebrow curiously.

“So the outer lands aren’t dangerous, then?”

“Oh, no, they’re definitely dangerous, at least if you go too far into a hot zone, but if you learn to tread it just right you’ll find there’s places with little danger.” Feuilly piped up. “We’ve managed to find the safest paths that they haven’t bothered to look for, places where the radiation is very low. It’s only in small pockets, but it’s enough to give us a slight advantage.”

“I’m amazed at the technology you seem to have scavenged, it seems rather sophisticated-and it seems you have electricity here, how I that possible?”

“Only in the main room, everywhere else we use candles and lanterns, just the energy to run this room is hard enough to come by, but we managed to hack into the electricity network the government set up a few year back and broke off a portion to use for ourselves, they haven’t even noticed it’s gone. We’re trying to find other ways to get electricity that won’t run out but our means are few at the moment.” Combeferre explained, and Enjolras nodded, he was starting to get a head for who had what roles here, it seemed that Courfeyrac and Combeferre were leaders by the way everyone looked to them the moment they arrived, although there was a sense of equality in the group as well, a camaraderie that brought a sense of unity. Their leadership felt disjointed, however, Courfeyrac was warmth, a light, yet almost too bright, Combeferre was calculating and smart and yet there was something missing, a chief to guide their ideals, to band them together even tighter so there would be no chance for disruption. He didn’t voice any of these thoughts, not yet, although he realized that in the silence everyone turned to look at him, as if they expected something from him, and he wasn’t sure why but it felt right, to have Courfeyrac on one side, and Combeferre on the other, and a feeling of purpose settled inside him, and he knew what it was, knew what it meant.

Enjolras was meant to lead them, even without knowing it they all looked to him as a source of leadership, and he felt that was right with the world. He was destined to be with these people, somehow, and he was destined to do as they all wanted.

It was time they started to take down this fake King.

ooooo

In the space of that afternoon he was dragged around by Courfeyrac to meet the rest of their friends, including a quiet young man who went by Jehan, a young boy named Gavroche who they said wasn’t entirely settled there, he flitted from place to place as he wished, a man who rested in the corner of the hall with a bottle of some form of alcohol in his hand and a hat on his head, who only looked up when Enjolras stepped over, who they said was named Grantaire. They didn’t know much about him, other than he was about as old as Bahorel and didn’t do much other than mutter occasional remarks on their foolishness at trying to start a revolution in a dying world. There was also a young blonde woman, Cossette, and her father, who Courfeyrac mentioned was very helpful, he was always out with her trying to find more supplies for them, he seemed rather old but he was strong too and had been a good asset for them. It was a ragtag bunch of people, and yet somehow it worked out, he could feel it in the way they all talked to each other and interacted, even when talking about simple things such as food and more firearms. The many rooms of the palace had been turned into storage rooms, or bedrooms, although there were few beds remaining and most slept in beds of ratty cloth and blankets that had been found. Clothing supplies were meager, but well spread, although as Courfeyrac noted they saved the best stuff for the children and women (although Gavroche was the exception, as he refused anything fancier they tried to give him, he preferred just his little jacket, t-shirt and trousers, and a pair of sandals), and Enjolras was surprised at how much they’d managed to get together. Most dressed in layers, a jacket, a sweater, several shirts, heavy pants, enough to be prepared for anything at least, although walking around they wore simpler clothing, with fewer weapons, although he noted even Courfeyrac kept a pistol on his hip and he figured it was just a precaution, it didn’t sound like anyone had actually attacked their camp, at least recently.

“So that’s about it, you’ve got your pick of rooms.” Courfeyrac said, gesturing to the one they were standing in front of. “This one’s mine, Ferre’s is across the hall, this hall’s mostly empty so you can have one here if you want. The only ones you can’t have are the ones with an “x” on the door, those are the ones that were deemed unsafe.”

“I’ll make sure to avoid those, then, thank you for the warning.” Enjolras said, nodding, the other boy smiling at him, giving him a small salute.

“Don’t mention, glad to have you aboard, Apollo.”

“You know that’s not my name, considering you all know who I am.” Enjolras snorted, but Courfeyrac just grinned unabashedly, shrugging.

“I know, think of it as some kinda code name or something, okay? Anyway, I gotta go, you rest up, lemme know if you need anything, I have to go check in on the radios.”

Before Courfeyrac could run off, however, Enjolras stopped him with a soft noise of surprise, the older boy turning and raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the one on the radio? I’ve heard you before.”

“Yep, that’s me! I never say my name on the radio, of course, our codename is ‘les amis’, I haven’t figured out a cool enough name for myself yet, but I’ve got one set for you already, it just suits you. I didn’t expect you to be quite so aesthetically perfect, you’re a god in this ruined world, dear Apollo.”

“Stop that, you’re a buffoon is what you are.” Enjolras huffed, but he found himself smiling as the other boy just saluted and walked back down the hall, a skip in his step. It was like being dragged out of his room in the early hours of the morning and thrown into the back of the van was days ago, he had his freedom once more and he had a purpose with it. He went into one of the rooms nearby, a few down from the room Courfeyrac had claimed as his, and then he noticed a little pile of blankets and such that had been left in the corner for whoever would take the room, perhaps its previous occupant, since he’d said these weren’t taken. He adjusted them, forming them up into a little lump that would make the floor at least a bit more comfortable, laying back on them. He meant to rest but even when he closed his eyes he couldn’t rest, because the men who had rescued him had sparked something inside him and it couldn’t be silenced, it was like a roaring fire had been kindled and he felt more alive than he ever had before.

ooooo

“…and in other news we have Apollo, repeat we have Apollo! A bright day for Les Amis to be sure, we’ll see how this pans out folks, haven’t had much of a chance to talk to him yet but we’ll see if he’ll stick with us-and with that we’re over an out, stay tuned for any more news, vivent les peuples, and stay strong, this is Nicolas, over and out!”

“Did you have to mention him? Now everyone knows he is here, what if his father found this connection?” Jehan said as Courfeyrac turned off the microphone, making sure to mix the signal so that they couldn’t be traced, sighing dramatically and leaning back in his chair.

“We might as well give them something good, he’s the talk on the town, you know, metaphorically speaking anyway, everyone wants to know about the son of one of the highest politicians in the area being rescued from getting sent to those hellholes, we’re just lucky that we’ve managed to avoid it to be honest.”

“Not luck, Combeferre just happened to break you free the first time, thanks to that Fauchelevant fellow.” Jehan remarked, Corufeyrac wrinkling his nose at the mention of it.

“Yeah, well we only got the rest of you out because of that so I’d call it luck, at least in a sense.”

“Not complaining at all, my friend, I’m just saying that perhaps we shouldn’t be spreading that news so lightly.” Jehan raised his hands in his defense, shaking his head. “Anyway, no that that’s over with it’s probably about time for dinner, I think they found a stock of canned chicken earlier so we might be in for a treat.”

“Really? Excellent, I’m starved, I haven’t eaten since yesterday, other than a little nibble on the way to pick our dear Apollo up.”

“You’ve given him a nickname already?” Jehan chuckled in amusement as they both stood up, making sure all the equipment was off before they left the room, locking it, Courfeyrac hooking the keys on his belt.

“Of course I have, our leader needs a cool name.”

“Now, hold on a minute, who said he’s going to be the leader? You’re our leader, Courferyac-well, you and ‘Ferre, and besides he’s only just got here, you can’t just decide to make him leader.”

“I’m not forcing the title upon him, I’m just saying it suits him, someone as magnificent as him could be in no other position than at the top! Besides, you know me, I’m no good as a leader.” Courfeyrac remarked, shrugging dismissively, but his eyes twinkled with excitement, there as something about their newest recruit, something he saw in those fiery cerulean eyes that he just understood. Enjolras had a light in him that couldn’t be dulled, it had to be allowed to shine brightly as possible and he couldn’t see any way for that than to lead them.

“You’re not all that shabby, Courfeyrac, we’ve managed perfectly well so far.”

“Yes, but there’s something missing, Jehan, something that ‘Ferre and I don’t have, and I think that he might have it. I’m not going to make him do it, I’m just saying that maybe, maybe us rescuing him as some sort of fate or something, maybe he was meant to help us finally get this done!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, mon ami, he hasn’t even been here a whole day yet.” Jehan chuckled good-naturedly, Courfeyrac nodding.

“I know, I know, I’m just so sure that this is what we’ve needed!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, puffing out his cheeks stubbornly, and Jehan nodded, punching his arm teasingly.

“You’ve made that quite clear, Courf, just don’t put him off too soon, you have a habit of being a little overbearing.”

“Only when I know that I’m right.” Courfeyrac objected, and they heard a chuckle, turning to see Combeferre making his way down the hall.

“Which is always. Now come along, Courfeyrac, we have to plan for another weapon’s run, those guards didn’t have many things of use and we’re still very short of what we’ll need.”

Courfeyrac pulled a face, not wanting to go on another venture out toward the more populated safe area’s so soon, but he knew they had no choice, they had envoys to send out as well to try and spread the word and try and get more factions on their side, it was hard to fight through the terror that the new King had instilled after the apocalyptic war that had gotten them to this point, it was better to trust in someone to hold everything together than believe that you were being pushed around and mistreated. But that’s why they were there, they were going to put an end to it and bring freedom back to the people so that they could rebuild instead of being held back. Combeferre rested his hand on his arm, looking at him, as if he could tell exactly what he was thinking, and he just sighed and shook his head, curling his fingers a bit on his arm.

“Let’s get going, then, we’ll have time to talk later.”


End file.
